


Would I Lie to You?

by oui_oui_mon_ami



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve Rogers Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, let's all pretend the avengers are all still alive and happy, they're both just damaged boys who find homes in each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-01 12:22:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15774048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oui_oui_mon_ami/pseuds/oui_oui_mon_ami
Summary: Soulmate AU in which you can’t lie to your soulmate.Steve doesn’t lie on principle, unless it’s for what he perceives as the greater good. Tony lies all the time. They don’t think they deserve each other.





	1. Steve

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this ages ago and kinda?? forgot to post it?? oh well at least it means y'all won't be waiting eight months for an update lmao
> 
> if i don't forget i'll be updating this every week, probably on thursdays since that's what today is
> 
> pls leave kudos and comments i will love you forever

Steve doesn’t lie on principle, unless it’s for what he perceives as the greater good.

His mother taught him that. Steve recalls sitting on their threadbare couch, swaddled in blankets because he has the flu or some other illness, watching his mother make him chicken soup. She brought the steaming bowl over and knelt down in front of him.

“Careful, it’s hot,” she said, handing Steve the bowl. She was silent while he took a few sips. “Sweetheart,” she eventually said, “you won’t understand this now, but I need you to promise me something.”

Steve sniffed. “What?”

“You have to promise to be careful about lying. Lies are powerful, and often come with consequences. So you have to think before you speak, okay? Think, is it necessary for me to lie right now? And if lying will do more harm than good, then tell the truth, okay?”

“What if I have to lie to save someone’s life?” Steve asked, because even then he cared about other people more than himself.

“That makes things more complicated,” his mother replied. “I’m not telling you never to lie. I just want you to be careful with lying. Think of it like you have a finite amount of lies, and you need to save them for the right occasion. Do you understand?”

Steve nodded and made slurping sounds as he drank the soup. “How did you know you and Pa were soulmates?”

The ghost of a smile appeared on his mother’s face. “I made him dinner one night, asked if it was good, your Pa’s mouth opened and then he started choking on the piece of meat he’d been eating. Once he’d spat it all into the trash, he told me that it was the driest beef he’d ever tasted.” They both laughed at that.

Steve doesn’t understand why his mother was trying to tell him that lies were finite until years later, when she’s with his father somewhere and he has Bucky to look out for him and make him chicken soup when he’s sick. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t still obey her instructions. He and Bucky don’t lie to each other – partially because Steve remembers what his mother said, and partially because they don’t need to. Steve trusts Bucky like he’s never trusted a friend before, so he doesn’t care if Bucky knows all his secrets. And in return, Steve knows all of Bucky’s. It’s like they’re two halves of one person, always joined at the hip, always sharing their thoughts with each other.

And there’s also this little nagging hope at the back of Steve’s mind that Bucky just might be _the one_ – and Steve knows that he shouldn’t feel that way about a friend, much less a friend of the same gender, and if anyone else found out it’d just make him an even bigger target, but he does feel that way about Bucky and he knows that it’s right, he’s right and everyone else is wrong and people should love who they want to, how they want to.

Steve decides to spend one of his lies on his enlistment form – after all, if he got into the army he’d be able to save lives, right? Steve tries to enlist once, then twice. After that, Bucky rolls his eyes fondly and tells Steve not to bother a third time. “You really do have a death wish, don’t you?” he says. “Maybe getting turned down twice is a sign that you’d be better off here, safe.” There’s a joking tone to his voice, as there is most of the time, but Steve can also tell that he’s worried.

Nevertheless, he sneaks off to try and sign up again. He doesn’t tell Bucky where he’s going – he’s out at work anyway – but he’s there when Steve returns. Steve quickly shoves the enlistment papers into his tattered jacket.

Bucky’s sitting on the windowsill, the dark areas under his eyes prominent in the low light of the setting sun. His gaze lazily sinks to Steve’s jacket, then back up to Steve’s face. “Where have you been?” he asks. No malice, just curiosity.

Steve panics, suddenly afraid that Bucky will be disappointed in him. “Walked to the docks,” he blurts out, then immediately regrets it because now he’s crossed a line, he’s broken something sacred between them, some infinitely delicate tripwire that he’ll never be able to fix.

Bucky’s face falls for a split second before he sighs, a tired grin that doesn’t reach his eyes showing across his face. “You’re a terrible liar, Rogers,” he says, walking forward to meet him.

Steve looks down in guilt and takes the enlistment papers from his jacket pocket. “I thought I could try again. May as well,” he confesses weakly. The weight of the broken tripwire still hangs, unaddressed, between them.

Bucky draws Steve into a hug. “Ever the martyr,” he says. He pulls back, cups Steve’s face with his hand for a second, then draws back. His expression is closed off, his eyes dull. Steve wants to reach out, hold Bucky’s hand, kiss him. But he remains still as Bucky retreats to the kitchen to make some coffee – “you look like you need it, kid” – leaving Steve with a sour taste in his mouth and a heavy feeling of loss in his chest.

Forgetting his mother’s instructions for a while, Steve tries a different tactic with Peggy. She’s a beautiful woman who draws Steve’s eye immediately – along with all the other men in the camp – but what really surprises Steve is that she seems to be interested in him. Even before he is injected with that blue Super Juice and gets significantly taller. Therefore, so that he doesn’t get his hopes up only to be disappointed again, he decides to test the possible soul-bond early on.

His opportunity comes sooner than he anticipates. He knows that the blonde woman at the reception desk isn’t his soulmate (“You like your coffee black, right?” she said on one of the first days he had been there. “Sure,” Steve replied, even though he prefers it with milk and one sugar. He just didn’t want to be a bother.), but he is also aware that she is interested in him. And so, despite the former fact, her lips end up on his, and Steve discovers to his horror that he is kissing back.

And then he spots Peggy.

Steve pulls away immediately – well, as far as he can when he is already pressed against a bookshelf – and the blonde receptionist smirks, biting her lip, and returns to her desk. Steve wills himself to stop blushing as he chases after Peggy.

“Of course Captain America can get any ‘dame’ he wants, and who am I to stop him?” Peggy snaps after minutes of Steve pleading for Peggy to listen and that the kiss meant nothing.

“I don’t want any old dame- I mean, _woman_ ,” Steve replies. “I’m telling you, I don’t like her.”

“Then why were you kissing back?”

“I wasn’t kissing back!” Steve lies, an impulse that he immediately mentally slaps himself for.

Peggy steps back, shocked for a moment – the only time Steve sees her truly shocked – before she quickly regains her composure. There is still a mixture of hurt and anger in her eyes. “Well, it is none of my business what you do off-duty,” she mutters and stalks away, leaving Steve outside Howards’ workshop, feeling just as guilty as he had done with Bucky.

After this, Steve resolves to follow his mother’s advice resolutely. Lying just causes more pain, he’s found. It’s fairly easy to tell the truth, anyway. After all, he’s always been open about his opinions, even when they’ve landed him in fistfights with guys twice his size. And despite the fact that Peggy isn’t his soulmate, he’s glad she’s willing to listen to him rabbit on about Bucky as he tries – and fails – to drink himself into oblivion in that bombed-out bar. He’s forgotten how comforting it is to have a shoulder to cry on.

When he steers the plane towards the ice, and he sees the vast stretch of dazzling white pan out below him, he regrets not that he never found his soulmate, but that he is depriving his soulmate of closure. He or she may spend their life searching for someone who cannot be found. Or maybe Steve never had a soulmate to begin with. That thought gives Steve a little relief. If he doesn’t have a soulmate, at least he won’t be causing suffering to any more people.

As he plunges downwards, he hates how easily he can tell Peggy he’ll give her a dance when he returns, even though they both know that won’t happen.

 _Maybe in another lifetime_ , Steve thinks as he hits the ice.


	2. Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i knew i'd forget to update this there goes my schedule lmao sorry have a long-ish chapter and some good emotional interaction between our boys to make up for it

Tony lies a lot. About the insignificant things, at least. Growing up, he lies to his parents about where he’s going, he lies to Rhodey about his age (at least until it comes out that he’s Howard Stark’s insanely smart, insanely _underage_ son), he lies to his one night stands about all manner of things (“Yes, I’ll name one of my cars after you.” “No, I won’t be gone in the morning.” “Yes, I remember your name.”) (He never lies about protection, though, or anything related to that. He has some respect.), and he lies to Pepper and Happy about how much he’s eaten, slept, et cetera.

He doesn’t care much about where, or who, his soulmate might be. There are times, when he gets himself drunk on liqueur and self-loathing, when he thinks the whole “star-crossed lovers” thing is bullshit – for him, at least. No one in their right mind would stick around for him once they realise how much of a mess he really is.

He only tells the truth to JARVIS – not that he has much choice, since the AI already knows everything about him, including how to tell if he’s lying.

He doesn’t care about the whole soulmate thing when he asks Pepper out, and clearly Pepper doesn’t care much about it either when she agrees, which surprises Tony a little. But the relationship only lasts a few months, with Pepper breaking up with him because he lied to her about the fact that he was dying for a period of time until he fixed what was wrong with him. Well, one of the things. He fixed what was fixable. Pepper was adamant that she would always be there to support Tony, but that she’d rather do that as a friend. He doesn’t blame her, really – if anything, he has been expecting it – but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.

He closes himself off after that. Doesn’t open himself up to relationships, sexual or otherwise. Spends most of his time in his workshop so that he doesn’t have to go out into the world and have his heart broken for the six billionth time. That’s probably where Fury has got the whole “doesn’t play well with others” thing from. And Tony doesn’t mind that. Not one bit.

Until the world appears to be ending.

SHIELD is desperate enough to come to him for help, and Tony, who can’t seem to shy away from the glory – or is he actually caring for the people he’s shut himself away from? Heaven forbid – puts on his suit and obliges. He has to fly to Germany, apparently, to stop an alien (?) from holding hostage a big glowing energy box (??) and potentially releasing an army of aliens via a portal in order to take over the Earth (???).

As soon as he gets close enough to see what’s happening on the ground, he can’t quite believe what his cameras are picking up: Captain America, yes that Captain America, his childhood hero and his father’s prodigal son (that is, the one he was actually proud of and paid attention do, despite being dead well before his real son was born), is being beaten up by some tall man with a green cape, a golden crown with horns (okay, that actually looks pretty stylish, in a medieval, over-the-top sort of way) and a spear that is shooting flashes of light. Of course, Tony’s read the case files about Captain Rogers and Loki and the Tesseract, but seeing a super-soldier who should be dead and an actual _god_ , apparently, fight on the streets of Stuttgart is, well… let’s say it’s surreal. Tony tells JARVIS to commandeer the PA system on the Quinjet and put on an… _appropriate_ soundtrack to him swooping in and saving the day, and then he goes and does just that. He gives himself a mental pat on the back for kicking ass without making a fool of himself in front of Captain America.

“Mr Stark,” the Captain says, breathless after the fight.

“Cap’n,” Tony replies coolly.

Tony hopes that they’d become friends – or, at least, colleagues who are happy to work with each other – throughout the mission, but they clash several times over the next couple of days. Cap’s ideas, somewhat unsurprisingly, are pretty old-fashioned, and he’s quick to anger. That part reminds Tony a little too much of himself. Still, Tony feels a faint sense of pride when they fix the helicarrier turbine together, and when he wakes up from his fall from space, he’s definitely more shaken than he’s ever been before – he can’t really think or see straight and his whole body is vibrating – but Cap’s face above his, wearing an expression of relief, seems to ground him. So, despite their differences – and Tony’s better judgement – he invites Steve to live in the Tower with him. “We have plenty of room,” he says. And it’s true – in fact, it could get pretty lonely there. It would be nice to have someone Tony could occasionally call a friend there with him.

“Thanks for the offer,” Steve says sincerely, “but I’m gonna head to Brooklyn, find myself a place there. It’s the closest thing to home I have.”

 _Home_. Of course. Tony tries not to look as disappointed as he feels – wait, since when does Tony care that much about Cap’s approval? – and nods. “Fair enough. But if you ever need a roof over your head, Stark Tower’s always open for you, Capsicle.” He smirks at Cap’s scowl over the nickname. “See you around.”

Tony isn’t expecting for Cap to take his offer seriously. So he’s incredibly surprised – but not unpleasantly so – to find a few days later that Cap does exactly that. The super-soldier is in the lobby, a small suitcase by his side. JARVIS tells Tony that he’s there, and at first Tony doesn’t quite believe it, but he takes the elevator down nonetheless.

Cap smiles sheepishly when he sees Tony. “Any chance I could ask for that roof now?”

“Why the change of heart?” Tony asks, but he leads the way to the elevator.

“Turns out Brooklyn’s gotten a lot more fashionable since I went under. And a lot more expensive. And the place SHIELD offered me seems… empty. Clinical. I don’t know,” Steve shrugs.

“No! I understand,” Tony says quickly. “Although, if cosy’s what you want, this probably isn’t the place for you either. Not that I don’t want you to stay, of course,” and now he’s babbling. Steve’s looking at him in… amusement? he thinks? It’s hard to tell what Steve’s thinking, his eyes are so deep. Wait, his eyes? Oh, and how he’s saying something? “Hmm?” Tony says.

Steve drops his gaze to the floor. “I said that I should have probably given you some notice before showing up.”

Tony shrugs. “No problem. You can have the guest room in my penthouse tonight, but I can get a floor for you sorted out tomorrow probably, definitely by the end of the week.”

That sounds… great, Tony. Thank you.” And now Steve’s looking at him again. Curse those baby blues.

So Tony gives Steve a tour of the place and then takes him downstairs to what is currently a gigantic cinema room that has only been used once when Tony and Pepper were dating. Tony wouldn’t miss it. “So as you can see it’s not really up to living standards yet, but I’ll call someone to put some walls in and some art running water, and I’ll get people to move your furniture from your old place-”

“Oh, don’t bother with that, Tony,” Steve says. “It all feels borrowed, anyway. The furniture. Except maybe the couch. But that’s… a lot of work. Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Of course. Anything for you, winghead.”

Steve laughs, ducks his head. Tony’s heart flutters. “Thanks, shellhead. Really. I’ll have to repay you somehow.”

 _How about dinner_ , Tony’s mind helpfully supplies, but Tony banishes the thought. What happened to avoiding emotional attachment so he won’t get hurt anymore? Besides, last week he and Steve were insulting each other like there was no tomorrow.

Well, nothing like the end of the world to bring people closer together.

Tony doesn’t see Steve as often as he expects to. To be fair, he holes himself up in his workshop for days on end and the pair have widely different sleeping schedules. And whenever Tony dies emerge to get food or to sleep in his actual bed instead of passing out on the couch in his workshop or, even worse, at the counter still holding the thing he’s currently working on, Steve is either sleeping, in the gym or out with his new running companion – Sam, was it? Tony shouldn’t feel jealous, but he does. Just a little.

One night, Tony jumps awake, gasping for breath, after one of _those_ dreams. His hands are shaking and his vision is blurry, but he manages to slip on an oversized t-shirt and stumble out into the hallway. He needs to get some fresh air.

It takes too long to find the balcony, and Tony feels like he’s suffocating the whole way. Finally, he can get some cold air into his lungs, and the temperature of the wind wakes him up, dragging him back to reality. He can feel tears stinging his eyes, but he blinks them back. He is not going to have a full-on breakdown the night before an important meeting that he promised Pepper he’d go to.

“Tony?”

Tony jumps ten feet into the air before his mind – still painfully sluggish – recognises the voice. He turns around, plastering a perfect cocky grin on his face. “Fancy seeing you here, Capsicle. What are you doing up so late? Some moonlight pilates?”

Steve doesn’t smile at the joke. In fact, his expression is more like one of worry, or confusion. Tony feels a pain in his stomach like a stab as he recognises it as the same one Pepper gave him as he told her about how he was dying but not really because he fixed it.

“JARVIS told me to come here, said you needed me urgently,” Steve says softly. “He sounded worried, for an AI. No offense,” he calls back inside.

“None taken, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS replies. “I apologise, Sir, but calling the Captain seemed the most logical way to help you, since he has displayed similar behaviours at night.”

Both men are shocked for a moment, processing what JARVIS just said. Steve recovers first. “You have nightmares too?”

Tony’s too tired to lie to Steve, and his façade drops. Steve is by his side almost immediately, his hands hovering close to Tony as if he wants to touch him but isn’t sure if that’s the best idea. Finally, Steve places an arm around Tony’s shoulders. Tony hasn’t realised how cold he is until he feels Steve’s warmth and leans into him, shivering. “Come on, let’s get you inside,” Steve coos, leading him gently towards the kitchen. “I’ll make us some tea, and we can chat, if you want.”

“I don’t have tea,” Tony mumbles. “JARVIS, place an order for some tea. Any kind, I don’t care.”

“English breakfast and green tea,” Steve suggests. “And chamomile,” he adds after another glance at Tony. He looks through the cupboards. “Coffee is probably not a good idea right now… oh! I know.” He switches the kettle on, takes out two mugs, and sets to work. Tony can’t quite see what he’s doing, but he can see honey and cinnamon. “My ma taught me this recipe,” Steve says excitedly. “It’s an excellent cough remedy without milk, but it’s even better with milk for after nightmares.” He pours water into the cups, stirs, then adds a splash of milk. Then he brings the cups over to where Tony sitting at the table. “It was pretty darn hard to find cinnamon during the war, so Bucky found a way to modify the recipe with lemon juice as a substitute. Then we both went out to Europe, and all three ingredients were impossible to get hold of.” He chuckles. “One thing that’s pretty neat about the 21st Century is that cinnamon and local honey aren’t luxuries any more. I can make myself a cup of this stuff whenever I want to, not just when the cold is bad enough or the nightmare are scary enough.” Steve smiles. “Bucky would go nuts if he were here.”

“Who was Bucky?” Tony asks.

Steve smile falters; his eyes glaze over and he looks down into his cup. “James Buchanan Barnes, my best friend,” he says softly, saying the name as though it were extremely powerful. “He was always there fore me, even when I was sick, even when my parents died and I was broke. Even when I went on missions to take down HYDRA, he was there. Until he wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry.” Tony grimaces. Feeling bad that he’d stumbled on a tender subject. “Was he…”

“My soulmate? No,” Steve replies, regaining that soft, wistful smile that makes Tony’s heart race. “Closest thing I had to one, though. There were times when I wished he was… Another life, maybe.” He sighs, then turns towards Tony, blushing. “Another thing I like about the 21st Century is that people are less likely to get their ass whooped just because they say stuff like that. Whose business is it if I like men? Mine. No one else’s. People shouldn’t be bothered by that.”

Tony leans back in his chair, his curiosity – and slight hope – sparked. “Captain America, liking men, huh? The rest of the world seems to have you pegged as a totally straight, masculine, privileged man.”

Steve frowns. “Well, you couldn’t exactly flaunt your sexuality back then if you didn’t want to et hurt. So I understand why the media’s so… what’s that word everybody’s using? _Hetero-normal_?”

“Heteronormative.”

“That’s it. But I’m sure I can clear that up fairly easily. Anyway, drink up.” Steve motions to Tony’s mug. Tony takes a sip and stifles a moan. Now that is good. Steve’s looking at him with an amusement that suggests that Tony’s pleasure is not effectively concealed. “Good, right?”

“So good,” Tony confesses.

Steve sits up. “Okay, so. Um. It’s absolutely fine if you don’t want to talk about your night terrors, but it might be good to open up, right? A problem shared is a problem halved, and all that.”

Tony frowns, takes a breath. “Only if you talk about yours, too. I’m curious.”

“I think I’ve talked about myself enough for tonight, but okay. A question for a question?” Tony nods. “Good. Okay, what are your nightmares about?”

Tony tenses as glimpses of memories flood him for a second. Breathe, his racing mind tells his racing heart. Steve winces and takes Tony’s hand in his. “Okay, bad question. A different one?” Tony nods again, shakily. “Okay. Are your dreams… are they about what happened the other week?”

“Sometimes,” Tony replies. His throat threatens to close up on him and he has to concentrate on his breathing, but for some reason Steve’s presence calms him down enough to talk. And what’s even more surprising is that he wants to talk, like being with Steve is compelling him to open up to him. He takes another gulp of the drink and breathes. “Sometimes they’re about Afghanistan, which I’m more used to, but more often now they’ve been about New York, and space, and…” Tony swallows. “Other stuff.”

Steve tilts his head, clearly wanting to probe, but he doesn’t press Tony. “Your turn to ask a question,” he says instead.

“Do you dream more about the war, or about New York?”

“Memories of the war…” Steve shrugs resignedly. “They tend to stick around. Especially going into the ice and losing Bucky. Those I dream about a lot. New York… I don’t know, maybe it was because I’m more used to fighting an army than you are, or because I didn’t go into space to stop an atomic bomb from destroying Manhattan – that was really heroic of you, by the way, I don’t think I’ve apologised for those awful and wrong assumptions I made of you when we first met, and I really am sorry for that, Tony, you proved me very wrong – anyway, that battle hasn’t affected me quite as much as you. Sure, I get the odd dream, but I can handle it. PTSD’s a bitch regardless, though.”

“Ooh, language, Cap,” Tony says, earning a lopsided smile that makes his heart jump.

“How often do you get nightmares?” Steve asks.

“More often than I’d like,” Tony replies.

Steve frowns and leans towards Tony, causing Tony’s resting heart rate to skyrocket a bit. If he were to lean a few inches further… “How often?” Steve repeats, his voice dropping in a way that _definitely doesn’t_ turn Tony on, no siree.

“Every other night,” he says.

Steve flops back onto his seat, brow creased, and lets out a strangled hum. “Tony,” he sighs.

Tony shakes his head. “I don’t want your pity,” he mutters.

Steve nods. “Understood.”

“How do you deal with them?”

“With the nightmares?”

“Mm.”

“I come out here and make a drink, then I go to the gym. I guess exercise is my version of inventing. It’s cathartic. It takes my mind off things.”

“So you’re literally _running away_ from your problems.”

That gets a laugh from Steve. “In a way, yes.” He clears his throat. “If you’re having such bad dreams about New York, why don’t you move out? You have a place in Malibu, right?”

Tony nods. “In all honesty, I was seriously considering moving down there before you turned up.”

“Oh,” Steve says. “You should’ve said something, I would’ve understood-”

“No, no. I really don’t…” Tony sighs, blaming Steve’s deep blue eyes for making him want to talk so much. Steve knows more about Tony than Tony’s own father did. “I wanted to run away, you’re right. And, true, it would probably be simpler if I did. But then you turned up and I had to stay true to my promise, right?”

“You didn’t-”

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m monologuing. Please. Your turned up and, I don’t know, despite the fact that I barely ever see you, the knowledge that there’s someone else in the Tower sort of makes things… better? Like I’m not alone. Which is kind of stupid considering we’re barely friends.”

“We’re not?”

Tony looks up to see Steve frowning at him, a look of disappointment in his eyes that makes Tony’s chest ache.

Steve shrugs. “I mean, I consider you my friend. We did save the world together, and we’ve been sharing an apartment for over a week.”

Tony says, “huh,” and mentally kicks his own ass because he’s an idiot. “So… we are friends.”

“Sure,” Steve replies uncertainly. “And thanks. For saying that stuff about me making things easier for you. I’m glad I can help, even if it is inadvertently.”

Tony nods. Swallows. He hopes the next question won’t ruin the mood. “Did you have a soulmate back in the ‘40s?”

Steve tenses and Tony quickly regrets asking. But then Steve smiles, as if to himself, and takes his empty mug to the sink. “No,” he replies. “I had a few close calls, I think, but no. I do wonder if I left one there, in the ‘40s, and they’re old now, or dead, and they’ve gone through life alone. Or maybe there here, somewhere in the 21st Century, or maybe I never had one at all. I don’t know if someone like me is meant to have a soulmate. I’m not sure if I’d be able to settle down, y’know?”

Tony understands. He also feels like he doesn’t belong in this whole ‘soulmate’ system. “I kinda feel the same way, about maybe not having a soulmate. I don’t know if I could be that open with anyone.”

“You’ve been pretty open with me,” Steve says, an offhand comment that leaves Tony speechless for a moment before dismissing any possibility of anything. No emotional attachments, no nothing. “Well, thanks for letting me practice on you,” he says, taking his cup to the sink.

“You’re very welcome,” Steve replies, “and I mean that. I’m always here if you need someone to listen to you.” He looks at the sky, which has grown lighter since they were outside. “It’s almost dawn. Do you want to come on a jog with me? It does help, I promise. And we could get breakfast afterwards.”

Tony shakes his head. As much as Steve would protest that Tony isn’t intruding, he should let Steve let off his steam in his own way, by himself. Besides, plugging an AI into a microwave sounds a lot more run than running a marathon. “Thanks but no thanks, Capsicle,” he says. “Unlike you, I don’t find aerobic exercise particularly soothing.”

He thinks he sees Steve’s face fall for a second, but he must be imagining things. “Your loss, Tony,” he replies light-heartedly. “Have fun inventing things. Take regular breaks.” And with that, he leaves.

Tony lets out a breath, goes down to his workshop, and gets to work.


	3. Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha would you look at that i forgot to update again lmao

Tony’s life falls apart two weeks after that, on a sunny Thursday morning – of course, Tony isn’t aware that it is sunny, with him shut in his workshop for four days straight.

He gets Steve’s apartment fixed up two days after their little night chat, but strangely Tony sees Steve more often than when they were sharing an apartment. Steve pops up for breakfast every so often, or he invites Tony down for a movie night – and of course Tony has to be there to steer Steve away from the Star Wars prequels.

A few days later, Tony invites Steve to his workshop. Although Steve has had unlimited access to the Tower since he moved in, he’s never visited Tony while he was working. When Tony brings this up, Steve shrugs. “That’s your space,” he says. “I wouldn’t want to intrude, especially since, with my luck, I’d just touch something and make it fall apart.”

“Nah, that’s Thor you’re thinking of,” Tony replies. “You know your own strength, you’ll be fine. Besides, all of my stuff is totally durable. The only fragile thing in my workshop is my sanity.” He laughs awkwardly, but Steve doesn’t seem to get the joke. He clears his throat. “Come down there with me, you’ll love it,” he says, “it’s got all the new toys. Another great thing about the present is that technology is way cooler. Thanks to me, of course.”

“Of course,” Steve echoes. “Okay, Tony, lead the way.”

Tony lets out a pleased “yay!” and takes Steve down to his workshop. He hears Steve gasp the moment they enter, and he silently congratulates himself on surprising Captain America.

Steve is at the nearest workbench, holding Tony’s newest helmet prototype gently and examining it closely. It’s not fully functional yet – in fact, it’s far from perfect – but Tony’s pretty proud of the concept. When it’s completed, Tony will be able to use nano-particles to rebuild any part of it that gets damaged. A fully regenerating suit.

He explains this to Steve, who listens with wide eyes. “Wow, that’s incredible, Tony,” he says. He opens his mouth to say something else, but is distracted by a loud whirring. Tony’s bots have woken up and are racing towards the newcomer, who seems to have frozen in shock.

“Don’t worry,” Tony reassures him, “they’re just nice robots that I built when I was in college. They’re not evil. Unless you count Dum-E putting motor oil in my coffee evil.

Steve extends a tentative hand towards the bots, who bump it playfully. U gives him a dirty rag as a present, which Steve thanks him for. “You built these in college?” he asks.

Tony nods. “Yep. They’re far from perfect, but I’ve grown attached to them. Trust me to be better with robots than actual human beings.”

Steve is staring at him in awe, which is doing all kinds of things to his body. Tony looks down and shoves his hands into his pickets, trying to make himself as small as possible to avoid the Captain’s stare. “That’s amazing,” Steve finally says, walking forwards to meet him. “ _You’re_ amazing, Tony. You really are a genius.”

Tony’s suddenly flustered by the compliment, something that has never happened before. Usually when someone tells him he’s a genius he passes it off coolly, but with Steve he can do nothing but sputter as he moves away from him, keeping his gaze on the floor.

The tour of the workshop takes longer that Tony thought it would, mostly because Steve keeps asking questions. Tony’s happy to answer them because they’re smart ones, and Steve’s a quick learner. The conversation gets particularly heated when Tony shows Steve his motorcycle collection, and Steve gets so excited Tony’s worried he’ll jump through the ceiling.

Steve visits once or twice over the next few days, bringing with him a glass of water or a sandwich, and parting with a reminder to take a break.

Then Tony’s chasing a breakthrough with his helmet – he was thinking about something Steve had said about the motorcycles, and a lightbulb went off in Tony’s head, and next thing he knew he had locked himself in his workshop for three days straight with a strict order to JARVIS not to be disturbed.

On the fourth day – is it the fourth day? Tony’s internal clock started getting messed up after the sixteenth cup of coffee – Tony hears the door to the workshop open behind him.

“Tony?” Steve calls.

“Security breach,” Tony mutters to the holo-screen he’s working on, looks up, then promptly steadies himself on the counter because the lights are suddenly too bright and his vision is swimming. “What are you doing here, Cap? I didn’t want to be disturbed.”

“I’ve been trying to get down here for four days,” Steve says coldly – so it _is_ the fourth day! – as he walks over to Tony. “But JARVIS said you didn’t want company, and, well, I started to get worried. I don’t want you shutting yourself away.”

Tony takes a gulp of his – now cold – cup of coffee, but that just seems to make everything worse. “I don’t need you checking up on me all the time,” he snaps. “You’re not my mom.”

“I’ll stop checking up on you when I see that you can look after yourself,” Steve retorts, brow creased in anger. “When was the last time you ate?”

“I had a couple of Tic-Tacs an hour ago,” Tony replies. At least, he thinks it was an hour ago.

“A proper meal, Tony. When did you last eat something substantial?”

Tony opens his mouth to lie, say that he ate this morning like he’s done with Pepper so many times, but he can’t get the words out. He literally can’t say it. His throat’s closing up on him, and he can’t force the lie out-

Oh.

Oh, _shit_.

“Tony?” Steve asks, partly angry, partly worried.

“I haven’t eaten since before I came down here,” Tony confesses, and it’s like he can breathe again after being trapped underwater.

Steve sighs, but he doesn’t yell. “Tony…” he whines, and leads him towards the door. “You _need_ to take more care of yourself. C’mon, let’s get some food in you.”

Tony’s still in a state of shock, so is barely processing what Steve is saying. “Mm,” he agrees weakly.

Steve is his soulmate?

_Captain America?_

Wow, poor guy.

Tony can’t do this to Steve. Steve can’t be stuck with a disaster like him for a soulmate. He doesn’t deserve it. And Tony sure as hell doesn’t deserve _him_.

So much for not developing emotional attachments.


	4. Steve

After Steve finds Tony almost passed out in his workshop, he barely sees him around. He’s not in his workshop when Steve visits, he’s not in the gym, he doesn’t even come down for movie night. Tony is actively avoiding him and it breaks Steve’s heart.

Eventually Steve stops trying to keep track of Tony’s wildly varying sleeping habits and starts keeping to himself. He doesn’t need to come up to Tony’s penthouse any more after he got his own floor in the Tower. He spends most of his time working out, helping Sam at the VA, and trying not to think about Tony.

To say that the man confuses him would be the understatement of the century. One moment he seems like the cockiest, most arrogant asshole in the world, the next he’s kind, generous and just as vulnerable and anyone else, if not more. He reminds Steve an awful lot of Howard, especially when his eyes light up as he explains his latest project, but other parts of him, like the part that had opened up to him that night, are so very _Tony_ – which is strange for Steve to say seeing as he’s only known Tony a few weeks now. Yet he’d name Tony as the closest friend he has in the 21 st Century. Despite the fact that Tony has been avoiding him for over a week now. Which definitely hurts.

One night, Steve dreams of ice and hanging off the side of a train; crashing the plane and watching his best friend fall just before he can get to him. Except this time it’s not Bucky he watches, but Tony, and he’s falling from the portal and there’s no one there to catch him and he’s falling and he’s falling too quickly towards the ground and there’s nothing Steve can do but watch be cause his body is frozen and the ice is creeping up his throat, choking back a scream as Tony falls-

He jerks awake, sitting bolt upright as he gasps for air. It takes him a moment to remember where he is, why there are lights shining through a crack in the blinds and why the room is so warm.

He needs air.

He needs to beat up punching bags until his knuckles bleed, and then some.

He needs Tony.

And Steve immediately shoves that last thought _right_ out of his head because he’s not clingy. He’s Captain America, and Captain America is _not_ clingy.

The third punching bag flies across the room, filling spilling out of the split Steve’s made, and before Steve can hang another one up and continue, a sound at the door makes him glance up.

“Hey, Cap. Rough night?”

Steve lets out a breath when he sees Tony, as if he has been holding one since Tony started ignoring him. “You could say that, yeah,” he replies, lifting up a punching bag to hang up.

Tony strolls forwards, and Steve notices that he’s wearing pyjamas and his hair’s mussed up like it is whenever Tony’s pulled an all-nighter trying to figure out this one equation he’s been struggling with. And he’s wearing his reading glasses, which make him look about ten times hotter than he already is. Which Steve never pays any attention to, of course.

“How about you take a break from beating up defenceless punching bags and we go get a drink?” Tony asks. “Mostly because I have to buy replacements whenever you get through one, which is quite often by the way, but also because you’ve been at this for well over an hour, since like 2am, and I’m a little concerned for your wellbeing.”

Realisation dawns on Steve. “Oh… shit, have I woken you up? Tony, I’m so sorry.”

Tony shrugs and yawns. “I was dicking around on my phone before going to sleep when JARVIS sent me here. I’m just returning a favour.”

Steve stiffens. Returning a favour. So Tony isn’t concerned about him. “Well, thanks for the offer but I’m happy here,” he replies coldly, ready to drown out his thoughts with the sound of flesh hitting leather, or plastic, or whatever this punching bag is made of.

Suddenly Tony is in front of him, between him and the punching bag, and it’s infuriating because Steve has to listen to Tony now. “Don’t be like that, Cap,” he says. “We don’t have to talk, but at least come with me. This place is basically humming with negative energy and- wait, is that blood?”

Steve glances down at his knuckles and shrugs. “They’ll heal soon.”

But Tony’s staring at him with a mixture of horror and sadness, which makes Steve’s heart drop. “Okay, that’s it. You’re coming with me. No buts,” he commands as he stalks out of the gym. Steve has little choice but to follow.

They go upstairs to Tony’s kitchen in silence, and Tony sits Steve down at the table. A few moments later, he returns with two mugs. “I’m pretty sure I screwed up the recipe bigtime,” he says softly, pushing one of the mugs towards Steve, “but it’s the thought that counts, right?”

Tony’s right about the recipe: there’s way too much cinnamon and not enough milk, but Steve really does appreciate the effort. “Thank you, Tony, it’s not…” he clears his throat, trying to find the best way to word it. “It’s an interesting take on the recipe,” he says.

Tony laughs. “Don’t kid yourself, Cap, it’s awful. Now,” his expression grows serious all of a sudden, “about this,” he gestures towards Steve’s bloody knuckles, which are healing rapidly. “I’m going to get JARVIS to monitor you in the gym. If he thinks you’re exerting yourself to such an extent that you’re deliberately causing yourself pain, he’s going to suggest that you stop. It’s up to you whether or not you listen to that suggestion. I’m also limiting your time in the gym at night to an hour and a half. After that, again JARVIS will suggest you find another outlet for relieving your stress. Does that sound reasonable to you?”

Steve wants to tell Tony that he’s fine, that he doesn’t need help, because he already knows what it’s like to burden people with his problems, and he doesn’t want to feel helpless again. Bu then again, he knows that deliberately making himself bleed again and again isn’t particularly healthy, and he’s already emotionally drained, and he’s just too _exhausted_ to argue with Tony, so he just nods.

Tony smiles, relieved. “Look, I know it sounds cliché but it’s for your own good. At first, upon hearing that you work out to cope, I thought _hey, that sounds like a healthier coping mechanism than mine_ , but after seeing what you were doing in there…” Tony swallows. “I know you’re not stupid, Cap, so I’m sure you’re aware that deliberately causing harm to yourself is bad, and while what you were doing may not seem so terrible, it could very well open up a door to a lot worse.” Tony puts a shaking hand on Steve’s arm. His eyes are glistening in the darkness of the kitchen. “Take it from someone who knows what _a lot worse_ is like: it’s _not_ a road you want to go down.”

Steve releases a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry,” he says softly. Sorry that Tony had to lose sleep to drag him out of the gym. Sorry that Tony’s had to go through so much that Steve and the rest of the team know nothing about. Sorry that Steve has forced Tony to remember what _a lot worse_ feels like.

Tony shakes his head. “Don’t apologise, Cap. You don’t need to for stuff like this. All you have to do is get through it. I’ll be right here next to you, helping you, if you want, and getting through my own shit as well. A little support group for a couple of messed-up, PTSD-ridden weirdos.”

Steve huffs a laugh and takes another sip of Tony’s cinnamon concoction out of politeness. “I’d like that, Tony.”

Tony smiles at him, and they sit in silence for a moment. The sunlight is beginning to filter through the cityscape, a line of grey that fades into the black of night. Steve wonders if it’ll storm later.

“So, do you want to talk about what was keeping you up?” Tony asks.

Steve knows he should – a problem shared is a problem halved, he had told Tony that other night – but he doesn’t want to remember it all. There is also the fact that Tony had a pretty prominent part in it, which Steve doesn’t really want to address when he’s sitting right next to him. “I’d rather not,” he replies softly.

“Fair enough,” Tony says, nodding. “How was your day, yesterday? You were at the VA, right?”

“Yeah, helping Sam out with his therapy classes,” Steve replies, happy to change the subject. He tells Tony about what the sessions involve, how it’s actually been pretty beneficial to Steve too, although he’d never admit that to Sam or the rest of the class, and the bake sale Sam’s asked him to organise to raise more funds for financial support for homeless vets.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if you told them that the therapy is helping you,” Tony says. “It’d show the others that they shouldn’t be ashamed of their PTSD because hey, even superheroes get it. It’s humanise you, hell it might help public opinion of mental illness as a whole. ‘Look, Captain America has PTSD and is seeking help for it, maybe I should too’.”

“You think it might help people?” Steve asks. That’s his goal, isn’t it? Why he became Captain America in the first place? To help people?

“Sure. Although I’d also understand if you wanted to keep it private. think if I ever opened up about how messed-up I really am behind this handsome façade, people would just end up calling me an attention-seeker.”

Steve wants to tell Tony that that can’t be true, but he can’t et the words out. He knows what the media’s like, anyway. Always looking for dirt to dish on successful people.

“What are your plans for tomorrow?” Tony asks. “Or, technically, later today?”

“I was just going to spend the day working out,” Steve replies, “but I’ve probably done enough for today.” Steve catches Tony nodding in approval. “I might go up to the roof, do some sketching.”

“You’re an artist?” Tony exclaims, leaning forward in his chair. “How come I never knew this? Can I see some of your work?”

Steve’s glad it’s still dark enough that Tony won’t see him blush. “Well, it’s not something I tend to mention. It’s never really come up. And, well, I’m pretty out of practice. I don’t have much to show, and none of it is very good.”

“I wanna see it nonetheless,” Tony says. “If you ever do one of the skyline, I’m going to frame it and put it up somewhere. Maybe my workshop. The bots would love it.” He lowers his voice. “I think they’re missing you.”

Steve laughs. “Well then, I’ve go no other choice but to visit them more frequently.” There’s a silent question in there somewhere, so that Tony can turn him down if he wants to. Although Steve suspects that it’s not just the bot who’ve been missing him. “Well, I’m sure they’d be very happy about that proposal,” Tony replies, grinning. It’s quickly getting lighter outside, and Tony yawns.

“Oh, shit,” Steve says, realisation suddenly dawning on him, “you haven’t slept tonight, have you?”

Tony shrugs. “I’ve gone longer without sleep.” Steve gives him a look. “ _But_ … a sleepless night is unhealthy so I’m going to go catch a few Zs now,” he adds hastily. “See, we’re already healing each other. We’ll be neurotypical in no time!” he calls as he walks backwards towards his bedroom.

Steve can’t help but roll his eyes fondly at Tony. “Have a good rest, Tony,” he calls back. The mechanic winks in reply before almost walking into a doorframe. Steve snorts, which earns a glare from Tony before he disappears into his room.

Steve stands and heads downstairs to find his sketchbook and art pencils, not bothering to wipe the dopey smile off his face.


	5. Steve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at me updating on time yayyy

That evening, Steve visits Tony in his workshop. He knows that he has full access to everything in the Tower, but he thinks it only courteous to knock lightly on the Perspex door and give Tony a little wave when he looks up sharply from his work.

Tony’s face immediately lights up – which does _not_ cause Steve’s heart to flutter, than you very much – and he races over to open the door for Steve. “Cap!” he exclaims, letting Steve in. “Good to see you. I’m in the middle of something right now, but you’ll have my full attention in two minutes. Feel free to wait here – or on the sofa.” He gestures awkwardly to the sofa in the corner.

“I brought coffee,” Steve says.

Tony gasps and takes the mug out of Steve’s hands. “Oh, I love you,” he sighs, which makes them both freeze. Steve isn’t sure who’s more surprised. Tony has his back turned to him, and Steve wishes he could see his face.

Eventually Tony clears his throat and continues walking towards one of the worktables. “So yeah. Two minutes,” he says, voice strained.

The bots rush up to greet Steve, and he addresses them all in turn, the moment forgotten. One and a half minutes later, Tony puts down the thing he’s working on and walks over to Steve. “So, was there a purpose for your visit, or did you just want to stare at me lovingly while I work?”

Steve rolls his eyes and hopes he’s not blushing. “I made you something,” he says, offering Tony a piece of paper. Tony takes it and a grin appears on his face as he looks at it. “Holy shit, Steve, this is incredible! Who knew all that talent was hiding in the ice.”

Steve definitely _is_ blushing now. “It’s not _that_ good,” he says, because he’s seen a lot better, and there’s no way he can do the Manhattan skyline justice using a sheet of A3 paper and some charcoals.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Cap,” Tony replies. “You’re definitely the most talented super-soldier I’ve met.”

“I’m the only super-soldier you’ve met.”

“Well, if I happen to meet another one, I’m sure you’ll still hold onto the top spot.” Tony turns to the bots and shows them the picture. “Look what Cap drew for us! Where should we – careful, Butterfingers – where should we put it? The Kandinsky’s been up for a while, should we replace it with this? A city skyline is much better than a few lines and coloured shapes, anyway.” Tony tells JARVIS to order an A3 frame and puts the picture carefully on the side, away from the mess of the worktables. Steve follows him to the table he was working at earlier. “You’re gonna love this, Cap,” he says. Steve can see he’s buzzing with excitement like he is whenever he starts talking a mile a minute about his inventions. “It’s a VR headset, but it’s so much better than the ones already out there. Firstly, it’s not so clunky you end up looking like a budget Geordi LaForge, and secondly, the sensors can pick up all kinds of speech and body movements, making them far more accurate.” He hands the glasses to Steve, who inspects them careful. They look like an ordinary pair of safety goggles.

“What’s VR again?” Steve asks, feeling stupid like he always does in Tony’s workshop.

Thankfully Tony is always so patient with him. “Virtual reality,” he explains. “You put them on and you can go anywhere, see anything. I want to modify them so they connect with people’s thoughts, their imaginations. It’d make a valuable tool for worldbuilding.”

“That’s… fantastic, Tony,” Steve says in awe. “People never would’ve dreamed of stuff like this back in the day.”

Tony ducks his head, flustered. “Well, back in the day they didn’t have me, did they?”

Steve shakes his head. “Nope…” Bucky would’ve loved this stuff, he thinks. “Hey, do you want to go grab some dinner? I’m assuming you haven’t eaten much today. Or we could order takeout.” Steve tries to act as casual as possible.

Tony stares at Steve for a moment, head tilted like he’s trying to solve a difficult equation in his head. He opens his mouth to reply when JARVIS cuts in. “Sorry to interrupt, Sir, Captain, but there is a news report on the television that you ought to see.”

“Bring it up,” Tony says immediately, frowning. A holo-screen appears in front of them, showing a view of Wall Street being attacked by an army of… monkey-crocodile mutants?

“… coming in that these creatures have spread as far north as Houston Street, and no one knows exactly how many there are,” the voiceover says.

Steve glances at Tony, all thoughts of dinner forgotten. “Suit up?” he asks.

Tony nods. “You got it.”

Steve has to race down to his quarters for his suit and shield, but Tony is waiting for him on the roof. “I’ll give you a lift,” he says, securing one arm around Steve’s waist. “Hold tight. And don’t puke, I just got a new paint job on this model.” Steve wraps his arms around Tony’s neck, trying not to think about how compromising this position would be if Tony wasn’t wearing the armour, and they fly off.

They are outnumbered from the moment they land. Steve tackles the creatures on the ground while Tony flies around him, picking them off one by one. Once the street is clear of monkey-alligators, Tony flies off to find the spot he’s most needed. “Let me know if you need me,” he says to Steve before shooting upwards.

Steve figures that it’ll still be a good while before proper reinforcements arrive – the police can’t really do much with their handguns – so he’ll need to move as quickly as possible. There’s no way he can take down the whole invasion himself, not even with Tony’s help, but he sure can try to minimise the damage before SHIELD shows up.

He sprints around the corner and takes four creatures out with a single throw of his shield. Another goes down with a roundhouse kick and two more with punches that Steve throws his whole body into. Then, suddenly, six of them are upon him at once, and although Steve decapitates one with his shield, his sleepless night is taking a toll on his reflexes and the rest overpower him, with more moving closer to finish him off. Steve groans through clenched teeth as they kick, punch, and bite at him, before he kicks one a good ten metres away, which creates a small gap in the group that he escapes through and sprints away. He races down the street, the creatures in pursuit, and picks off as many as he can with his shield. His abdomen hurts, badly, but he can think about that later. However, the creatures are gaining on him and Steve can barely feel his legs.

Suddenly, a creature comes out of nowhere, holding something that glistens, and collides side-on with Steve, making him fall and gasp in pain as his right upper arm suddenly starts stinging.

“Cap?” Tony calls into his earpiece. “Status report.”

Steve is a little preoccupied with fighting off this monkey-alligator while thirty more are bearing down on him, so he replies only in grunts.

“Steve, is everything okay?” Tony asks, voice sounding strained. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” Steve replies truthfully. It’s not like he was taking note of the street signs while he was on the run from an army of mutants.

“Okay, I’m tracking you now,” Tony says. “I’m on my way.”

“Might wanna hurry,” Steve grunts as he rolls on top of the creature and knocks it out with a blow to the head. He hates to admit that he needs help, but he needs help. The creatures are close, he can hear them, and his legs – no, scratch that, his whole body is screaming in pain. He groans as he gets to his feet and prepares to take his last stand. If he’s gonna go down, he’s sure as hell gonna take as many of these goddamn monsters down with him.

“Cap! Duck!” A new voice yells into his earpiece, one that Steve recognises, and he turns, startled, until he sees a Quinjet flying between the buildings directly at him and the oncoming monsters. Steve immediately crouches low and holds his shield up above his body as the Quinjet soars over him, peppering the ground with bullets which all but take out the army of creatures that was about to kill Steve. Once the sounds of the jet start to recede, Steve breathes a sigh of relief as he scans the motionless pile of bodies.

“Thanks, Hawkeye.”

“No problem. More reinforcements are incoming, so you can back out now if you have a bingo game to catch.”

Steve chuckles dryly. “Et tu, Barton? Let me guess, has Tony told you to start cracking jokes about my age?”

“I’m offended that you don’t think I come up with these jokes myself,” Clint replies.

“But for the record, I was cracking age jokes before it was cool,” Tony chimes in. Steve can see him hovering a hundred metres away, sending the odd blast into a side street. “But really, Cap, you took quite a beating. You oughta rest up.”

“Not until the job’s done,” Steve protests, even though his balance is off and he’s carefully placing all of his weight on his right leg because he landed on his left one wrongly – or maybe there’s a stab or a bullet wound there – and his right arm feels weirdly numb.

Tony flies closer and his helmet opens. He’s still far away but Steve can see the worry on his face, which makes him feel guilty. “Cap, you’re bleeding. A lot. You look like even more of a hot mess than usual. Let SHIELD do their thing, you’ve done enough.”

“But I need to do more, I-” _I’m fine_ , he wants to tell Tony, _I can handle it_. Except he knows from how his left hand comes away from his side covered in blood that those are lies, and he’d only be putting himself in more danger, and although that wouldn’t usually stop him, the words won’t come out and Steve’s throat is closing up and _he can’t lie_.

He can’t lie to Tony.

Steve feels like an electric shock has gone through him as everything starts to make sense. The fact that Steve always feels like he can talk freely to Tony. The fact that Steve’s told Tony more about himself than he’s told anyone else (except his mother and Bucky, maybe). The fact that Steve felt drawn to Tony in a way that made Stark Tower – that big ugly building in New York which Steve had never even been to – feel more like home that Brooklyn. And, finally, the fact that Steve’s not even surprised by this realisation.

“Cap?” Tony’s close now, very close, and Steve would grab his face and smash their lips together if he didn’t feel so nauseous. Tony curses under his breath. “ _Steve_? Say something, goddammit.”

Steve looks up at Tony’s concerned eyes, licks his cracked lips, tasting blood, and swallows. “Okay. I’m done,” he sighs.

Tony’s expression transforms immediately to relief. “Thank God. I thought I would have to sedate you to get you out of here. Let me take you to the hospital.”

Steve nods and allows Tony to pick him up gently and fly him away. He wonders if Tony knows that they’re soulmates. But then, if he did… why would he hide it from him? Or, what if Tony isn’t Steve’s soulmate after all? Steve’s chest aches at the thought, although that might be another stab wound.

Maybe Tony would be better off without Steve, he thinks. He’s had to handle Steve’s issues on top of his own since Steve arrived, and has had to go out of his way far too often for Steve’s liking. No, Steve was wrong about Tony being selfish, the problem is quite the opposite: that Tony is far too selfless. Having to take care of Steve is just going to end up hurting him.

It breaks Steve’s heart, but he’s got to give Tony up for Tony’s own good.


	6. Tony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last chapter yayyyyyy
> 
> shoutout to all the people who commented "those fucking idiots" or words to that effect at the end of the last chapter. i'm glad that i'm killing all of you with copious amounts of unnecessary dramatic irony. i hope that this conclusion is worth it.

Tony tries not to feel too hurt that Steve’s been avoiding him. After all, he’s guilty of doing that to Steve. Or, at least, trying to. Until his resolve broke a week in.

Tony realised then that his willpower is useless when it comes to Steve. When JARVIS told him that Steve needed him in the gym at three in the morning, just as Tony was dozing off, he considered ignoring him. After all, he was sure Steve could handle whatever he was going through just fine. But then he remembered that Steve had spent a sleepless night talking with Tony because he understood what Tony was going through, and that got Tony out of bed. Because he wanted to repay the favour. Because he cares about Steve.

Seeing the blood on Steve’s hands shocked him. It sent him right back to his teenage years, crouched over the bath in his en suite so that he wouldn’t get any blood on the porcelain tiles, razor in hand. It made him feel nauseous, like they were both on the edge of a precipice and Tony had to talk Steve down while stopping himself from falling at the same time. Tony wondered if he was overreacting.

And then Steve returned to him, less than twenty four hours after Tony found him, with coffee and a picture of the Manhattan skyline. And Tony told Steve he loved him. An offhand comment, one that he didn’t think Steve paid any attention to – or he may have thought Tony was talking to the coffee and not to him – but Tony froze for a good ten seconds. Not because he was embarrassed by the outburst – no, Tony isn’t ashamed to flirt with anything that moves, not even Captain Handsome – but because it had to be true.

Tony “no emotional attachments allowed” Stark loves Steve Rogers.

Which made the fight all the more terrifying for him. He didn’t want another fight to happen so quickly, much less another in New York – seriously, what is it about the city that makes it so vulnerable to attacks by weird stuff? – but he followed Steve (or rather, carried him) into battle anyway, because it was the right thing to do.

He was taking down creatures left, right and centre with his repulsors when he started to hear Steve cry out in pain over their wireless communication. “Cap? Status report,” he said as calmly as he could, taking down three monkey-crocodile-things with three consecutive blasts. The good thing about these invaders, Tony thought, was that they were fairly weak and could be taken out pretty easily with high-voltage blasts of energy. The bad thing was that there were an awful lot of them. SHIELD needed to get its ass in gear if the invasion was going to be contained, and there was no portal to send a nuke into this time.

Steve still hadn’t responded. All Tony could hear was the odd grunt every so often, and that worried him. “Steve, is everything okay?” he asked. “Where are you?”

“I don’t know,” Steve replied.

“Okay, I’m tracking you now,” Tony said, searching for the tracker he’d put in Steve’s suit. An invisible beacon of red light came up on Tony’s screen a few blocks south of him. “I’m on my way.”

“Might wanna hurry.”

Tony was about to reply when he was shot by something that made everything go dark. He swore, already feeling a wave of nauseating anxiety wash over him. “JARVIS, where are you?”

“Rebooting in ten seconds, Sir.”

Thank God JARVIS was still there. “Make it five.”

A few seconds later, the helmet’s screen lit up again and Tony engaged the repulsors just before he hit the ground. After quickly shooting all the creatures closest to him, Tony shot upwards and flew towards the tracker’s beacon of light as quickly as he could, hoping to whatever gods there were up there, if there were any, that he wasn’t too late.

“Cap! Duck!” he heard suddenly through his earpiece, and directly below him a Quinjet zoomed past, shooting bullets at the ground where Steve was being attacked. There were a few seconds of silence, where Tony felt like he wanted to throw up out of anxiety.

“Thanks, Hawkeye,” he finally heard Steve say, and he let out a relieved sigh. Steve was okay. Well, he was alive, at least.

“No problem. More reinforcements are incoming, so you can back out now if you have a bingo game to catch.”

Steve laughed. “Et tu, Barton? Let me guess, has Tony told you to start cracking jokes about my age?” Tony was offended that Steve would think he’d ever share his brilliant sense of humour with anyone.

“I’m offended that you don’t think I come up with these jokes myself,” Clint said.

“But for the record, I was cracking age jokes before it was cool,” Tony said. Steve looked up at him and gave a small smile. From what Tony could see, he looked badly injured. “But really, Cap, you took quite a beating. You oughta rest up.”

“Not until the job’s done,” Steve said.

Tony flew closer and opened his helmet to get a closer look. The breath rushed out of him as he saw just how badly hurt Steve was. There was a deep wound in his right shoulder, and cuts all over his torso, with one particularly long, deep one stretching all the way from his left side around his abdomen. All his weight was on his right leg and blood was dripping from his nose and his lower lip. JARVIS was saying something about Steve needing urgent care. It physically pained Tony to see Steve like this. “Cap, you’re bleeding. A lot,” he said as he slowly walked forwards. “You look like even more of a hot mess than usual. Let SHIELD do their thing, you’ve done enough.”

“But I need to do more, I-” Steve broke off, looking pained, then confused, then like the air had been knocked out of him.

“Cap?” Tony quickened his pace and reached Steve, but was afraid to touch him in case it could cause him more pain. Steve’s breathing heavily and looks like he might drop any second now. “Steve? Say something, goddammit,” Tony says, his voice cracking in panic.

Steve met his eyes, his expression blank, and licked his lips. “Okay. I’m done,” he said tiredly.

“Thank God,” Tony sighed. “I thought I would have to sedate you to get you out of here. Let me take you to the hospital.”

Steve nodded and all but dropped into Tony’s arms. Tony lifted him up gently and flew slowly upwards. “Barton, you can take this from here?” he asked.

“Sure thing, Tin Man,” Clint replied. “Go take care of your boyfriend. Keep him safe, ‘kay?”

“Will do,” Tony said softly, flying Steve to the hospital as quickly as he could.

Thankfully the super-soldier serum meant that none of Steve’s injuries were too severe, and he managed to be on his feet and back at the Tower after only a night in the hospital.

And now he’s avoiding Tony.

After a few days of Tony literally not being able to find Steve anywhere, he starts to get a bit fed up. And worried. But mostly fed up. He’s been reading at the kitchen table for an hour and a half hoping that Steve might magically appear at the door against all odds. Finally, he sighs. “JARVIS, is Cap actually in the building? Or have I been waiting here like an idiot for nothing?”

“Captain Rogers is in his apartment,” JARVIS replies. “Would you like me to send him up here?”

“No, thank you,” Tony says. “Not that he’d listen anyway.”

There is a moment of silence. “I have noticed higher levels of serotonin in your body whenever you are with Captain Rogers,” JARVIS says matter-of-factly. “As well as decreased levels of cortisol, particularly during times of high stress.”

Tony sips his coffee. He thinks he knows where this conversation is headed. “Oh yeah?”

“Sir, would it be safe to say that Captain Rogers has what is known as a ‘grounding effect’ on you?”

“I guess. He calms me down.” He wouldn’t be confessing this to JARVIS, at least not this early in the day, if he wasn’t so desperate to talk about Steve, to Steve, Steve is occupying most of his many thoughts at the moment and has been for at least two weeks.

“May I then make an assumption based on my observations of your behaviour since Captain Rogers has moved into the Tower?”

Tony sighs. He definitely knows where this conversation is headed. “Go ahead.”

“Captain Rogers is your soulmate.”

“Yep.”

“Why haven’t you told him?”

Tony lets out a syllable of a laugh. “Because he’d be better off without me. Because he said he can’t see himself settling down with a soulmate, and neither can I.”

There’s a pause. “You love him,” JARVIS states.

Tony sighs. He can’t deny it.

JARVIS takes the silence as an affirmative. “I assume that your fear of commitment is also preventing you from telling him that.”

“You have such a way with words, JARVIS,” Tony says. “No sugar-coating here.”

“I apologise, Sir. But I think you ought to know that I have also been observing Captain Rogers’ behaviour when he is around you, and I have found similar results.”

That makes him choke on his coffee. “So,” Tony leans forward in his chair, heart hammering in his chest, “you’re saying that he might feel the same way?”

“I am saying that Captain Rogers is packing his things with the intention of moving out of the Tower, and it would be foolish to let him go.”

“What?” Tony exclaims, standing up. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Captain Rogers instructed me not to tell you. It was only when I reached the conclusion I have just told you about that I made an executive decision based on his and your wellbeing.”

By now, Tony is already out of his apartment and taking the stairs two at a time down to Steve’s floor. He’s not quite sure what he’ll do when he arrives; it’s not like he can force Steve to stay against his will, that would be pretty selfish, even for him, but an explanation at least would be nice.

He knocks on Steve’s door, and it’s opened not even two seconds later. Steve is still in his pyjamas, and Tony can see boxes on the floor behind him. “Tony,” Steve says.

“Hi,” Tony says awkwardly, his mind suddenly drawing a blank on what else to say.

“JARVIS told me you were coming down,” Steve says.

“Oh,” Tony replies. He clears his throat. “You’re moving out?”

Steve nods, grimacing. “I… SHIELD found me a place in Brooklyn. Close to where I grew up. And I’m so grateful for hospitality, Tony, but I figured I should get out of your hair before I outstay my welcome. And it also means you can move back to Malibu.”

Tony leans on the doorframe. “Well, Malibu’s overrated, you see. Full of rich white people.”

“And New York isn’t?” Steve replies. “Besides, Tony, _you’re_ a rich white person.”

“Look, I don’t want to go to Malibu. I’m happy here. And you’re not outstaying your welcome. You could never outstay your welcome. This tower’s more than large enough for the two of us.”

Steve looks about as pained as Tony feels. “You’re happy in a place that triggers your PTSD every other night?”

Tony knows that he ought to go for it, tell him how he feels, how important Steve is to him. But he’s a coward, and he doesn’t want to push Steve away any further. Not that he could possibly push Steve any further away – the super-soldier looks like he’s ready to bolt.

“Tony, I think it would just be better for the both of us if I left. I don’t want to keep saddling you with my problems when you have your own to think about. You’ve lost enough sleep because of me-”

“Hey, do you realise how selfish you’re being?” Tony interrupts, a spiky feeling of anger growing in his chest.

Steve is taken aback for a moment. “What?”

“Yeah, you’re being selfish and I’m calling you out on it. You think that you can make this decision without consulting me, even going as far as to decide what’s best for me _without asking me first_. Before you started living here, yes, I was set to move back to Malibu. But then I remembered all the things I like about living in New York. 24-hour takeout places. The view from the roof of the Tower. _You_. Living in Malibu wouldn’t be any less lonely, especially not without our night-time heart-to-hearts. Those things… they’re more important to me than escaping my PTSD. _You’re_ more important to me. And I thought you understood that you were helping me.” – Tony is shouting now, and blabbing, not making any sense, and he’s pretty sure he’s crying, and Steve’s frozen to the spot – “And I was helping you. Or, at least, I was trying to. And if it wasn’t working out for you, you should’ve just said something instead of hiding away and worrying me crazy, and then we could’ve talked like adults. And it never would’ve come to this, with me crying at your door, desperate for you to stay because you’re an idiot and I love you and I really, _really_ don’t want you to leave me.”

Steve’s eyes grow wide, and for a second Tony thinks he’s going to slam the door in his face. But then Steve’s shoulders slump as he sighs. “ _Shit_. Tony, I’m so, so sorry, I’ve fucked up.” His hands hover at Tony’s sides for a couple of seconds before he pulls him into an embrace. Tony buries his face into Steve’s shoulder and holds on for dear life as Steve apologises over and over, and Tony can hear the sincerity in his voice.

When they finally pull back far enough so that they can see each other’s faces, Steve starts gently wiping away the tears from Tony’s eyes with his thumbs. “So… you love me?” he asks softly, more uncertain than Tony’s ever heard him.

Tony nods. “It can’t exactly _not_ be true, can it?”

Steve blinks. “You knew.”

“That we’re soulmates? Yeah.”

“How long?”

“Remember that time you came into my workshop and yelled at me for not taking care of myself?”

Steve frowns. “I feel like I’ve done that multiple times.”

Tony laughs snottily. “The first time.”

“You’ve known that long?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“I think JARVIS explained it as something about my fear of commitment preventing me from changing anything about our friendship?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” A pause while Tony stares into Steve’s eyes (which he can now do shamelessly). “How long have you known?”

“The battle. Just before I started…”

“Avoiding me?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“And you were avoiding me because of _your_ fear of commitment?”

Steve cracks a lopsided smile, cheeks turning pink. “I guess.”

Tony mirrors Steve’s smile. “We really are idiots, aren’t we?”

Steve nods. Then his gaze flicks down to Tony’s lips. “Can I…?”

Tony takes that as an invitation to press his lips to Steve’s. Steve lets out a little surprised noise, but immediately wraps one arm around Tony’s waist and cards the other hand through Tony’s hair, sending a shiver down Tony’s spine. Tony’s hands cup Steve’s face as they move in tandem with each other, like they were made to kiss each other all along. Well, apart from a few times when their noses bump together, but Tony guesses that they’ll have a long time to practice.

They eventually break apart for air. “You’ve changed your mind about moving, right?” Tony asks against Steve’s lips.

Steve laughs. “I don’t know. I’m still considering moving…” Tony glares at him. “Moving back into your penthouse! Geez, let me finish.”

Tony smirks and kisses him again. “Maybe tonight.”

That turns Steve bright red.

As they lazily make out in the doorway, Tony feels like all the shrapnel has been removed from his chest and he can finally breathe properly again. Sure, he’s still messed-up, and so is Steve, but at least they can be messed-up together. And maybe, just maybe, they can help each other become less messed-up, so that they can lead as normal a life as a ninety-something-year-old super-soldier and a genius-billionaire- ~~playboy~~ -philanthropist can lead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh god what a cheesy ending kill me
> 
> thanks for sticking with me to the end. comments/kudos are much appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> come and yell at me on tumblr: sunshine-soprano


End file.
